Spencer's Legacy
by Daniel Arkel
Summary: The Wesker Children yet live. Follow the footsteps of Alex Wesker, the troubled lead of Project Wesker as he combats conspiracy, confusion, and doubts over his alliance with the Umbrella Corporation. Finding the truth is never easy, especially while protecting a little girl who becomes his whole world. Learn what lies ahead in... Spencer's Legacy. (Book One)
1. Prelude

**RESIDENT EVIL**

**SPENCER'S LEGACY**

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_The events of this story is unconfirmed speculation on an unconfirmed set of events, spun to a tale that crosses into the canonical fiction. It takes place before and after the Mansion and Raccoon City Incidents in the place of Alex Wesker, the fabled Project Lead of the Wesker Project, the powerful program that was used to give Albert Wesker his immense, inhuman abilities. The Prelude contains events that traverse from the current story and far ahead into the planned sequel,_ Falling S.T.A.R.S.

_I do not own the rights to the Resident Evil series, which includes its characters, plot, or brand; which are rightfully owned by Capcom.  
_

_Enjoy._

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**PRELUDE**

_August 15th, 2006_

_Spencer Estate, Europe_

The window spider-webbed with cracks before it caved in on itself; the Gothic Lolita splitting to glass shrapnel as the night air, cold as death, slipped past my clothing, my gear, as it stabbed at my skin with a thousand daggers of ice. My fingers coiled around his abdomen, glove in glove behind his back as my cheek slammed to his rib. I felt my ponytail thrash aside as gravity took hold over the descent, my eyes open to experience their last.

He looked surprised, but to my own surprise, neither of us were screaming. I had him in my hands, and although we would fall into the ground broke us both, his expression wasn't of terror or fear. He, truly, looked surprised, but not in one of shock or realization of his demise, but one an expression that unnerved me. He was impressed. The fall would be long, he must have known, as his lips parted, voice low and rolled, like a purr from an animal. I despised the sound as much as I despised being this close to him.

"Always the bold one, " He stated. "And always the fool, Jill." I tightened my grasp on him as I grit my teeth.

"If a fool can kill a king..."

He grinned at that, his arms notched as he kept up straight, guiding the descent without struggling. His eyes, a cats-eye in crimson, burned through his sunglasses as he turned his neck back, measuring the distance. The open-roofed cave shouldering the castle far below gleaned back. My stomach churned as the thoughts of death were already striking me, but it was already too late to weasel out now. Wesker would perish, but so would I. Not the way I had planned my end to be, but I was beyond planning now.

"_JILL!" _Chris screamed from far above. I'd made my choice and he was breathing from it. I wouldn't regret what I'd done, not even on whatever side of the afterlife greeted me. If there was one, after all. I'd find out, soon enough.

Wesker's eyes turned back to me, the air becoming a blizzard across my nerves as my eyes met the ground, one of the many times it did, as it only seemed to become larger and larger. I hated to even ponder it, but Wesker was a man once, as unbelievable as it was. I turned my gaze up to him, my hat flopping from my head and away into the breeze as I kept my grip like irons around him.

"Even a bastard like you has to have regrets," I pushed, Wesker scoffing in laughter. "Last words?" He never betrayed that dark, malicious curve of his lips as his hand snapped forward, leather fingers coiling around my throat as I gasped in surprise. I tightened my arms around him, as if to squeeze the air from his body, as he tried to squeeze the air from mine. I could feel the weight of the world tugging at me, the fall nearly over. And still, he grinned.

"My greatest regret?" The jaguar murmured, his head coming closer to mine as I wrenched about, my grip loosening as he steered me back without much effort, my fingers losing themselves and clawing at the celled-material of his coat. His grin had finally evaporated, but his composure did not. His crimson eyes, malevolent and merciless, stared deep into mine with a savage glow, the ground mere seconds away. His lips parted, but the words were broken, lost in translation as my mouth dropped in surprise, brow raising as I couldn't understand. I could feel my grip tighten around his wrist, but lacking the strength to pull free.

"Letting you live." He had said, before the floor greeted me in its own manner.

Pain. Sharp, mind numbing, as it burned over my back instantly; no delay to allow my brain a moment to recognize the impact. Only pain. The collision knocked the air from my chest, my sight in stars and blotches of black and white as each gasp sent my spine aflame, betraying me need for air as I writhed.

Then, darkness. The pain didn't fade with my sight, only making the agony worse. What was I to do? I couldn't feel my leg and moving myself would only make it worse.

Then, light. A flicker to the sky as rain peppered my skin in tears of frost. The hole in the cave cast a dim moonlight upon me as I gasped in surprise. _Good_, I thought to myself. _I'm not dead!_ The pain made a groan of agony slip from my throat, unable to move. _Not dead yet, thankfully._ I began to wretch, coughing heavily as red lifeline left my lips. The castle far above seemed serene, if not caught within the claps of light as electricity arced in the clouds as a blot of shadow fell from the tallest tower of the Spencer Estate. Chris screamed my name no longer, the window vacant of all but splinters of glass as the echo seemed to call to me.

Chris. My heart fluttered as it pumped blood to the wounds I couldn't even recognize, the memories slipping by in pulses, words becoming voices as the experiences converted to dreams. I felt my eyes roll back as I doubled over, my effort to stand crumbling as the pain clawed its way back in, wrenching my control as I tumbled. It was-

_The Beretta in my hands bit into my palms, cutting through the leather of my gloves as I strangled the handle in absolute terror. I watched as Richard shrieked and screamed before the decaying hounds had begun their feast. My hands were trembling as my eyes were wide, my index finger slamming the trigger to receive only a hopeless click, the smoke steaming from the barrel as the clip had run dry. I pulled several more times, to a persistent click, before I even recognized that it was empty._

_ Then, the dogs turned toward me and snarled, unsatisfied in their meal as they looked for more of a morsel within myself. I tried to turn and run, but my eyes were trapped on the scene, my legs heavy as I could do no more than inch back. I jostled in pain as I fell back, a rock biting at my boot as I tripped back, grass meeting my unprotected arms as the dogs showed their teeth to me. The hound spearheading the pack reared for a moment, before pouncing at me and-_

_ Bang. Loud, fast, and deafening. The gunfire snapped myself back to reality as the dog sailed past me, a spray of blood on my cheeks as I looked on, stunned at how quickly things had escalated. "Come on!" a voice called, seizing me by the arm. I turned, eyes searching the face of-_

_ Chris. Chris Redfield. S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team. His youthful face was serious and in the moment, pistol in hand, still steaming from the recent shot as he looked at me for compliance. "Let's go!" He cried, pulling me from the dirt as I nodded numbly in agreement; the two of us sprinting through the forest as helicopters sailed far above the Arklay Mountain Forest. Brad and his men couldn't have been aware of the situation down here... This was supposed to be a simple recon! None of us had a radio!_

_ "Brad! Where the hell is he going?" Christ voiced before I could, our eyes looked on the metal carriers as they abandoned us._

_ "Into the mansion!" Albert cried out, waving his gun arm as he stepped inside a massive abode, strange and eccentric. The shadows of the forest almost made the place hidden behind the shrubbery as Wesker crooked open one of the two paired doors rattling as he creaked it open, howls from deeper into the forest gave us the urgency we needed. Even as Christ tore open the door and ushered me in after Wesker, I felt the sincere intuition come over me, the subtle dread that something wrong, horrifyingly so, was on the horizon-_

"AAAHH!" I screamed as the light came more quickly, the memory fading as the world snapped into focus and the pain of awaking nearly too much to handle. The lucid burst of light was blinding, blurred and my breaths were too short, too rapid. My gaze turned back from the puncture in the cave's roof as I struggled to understand what was transpiring, the unthinkable occurring.

Wesker, black rectangular sunglasses pinned to his shirt, became known to me. His gloved hand was coated in a sickly red as he removed a white gauze and tore it free, wrapping it around the straight, finger sized injury in my thigh. That wasn't from the fall... He'd harmed me. While I was dreaming?

_He resuscitated me._ I realized. _He SAVED me?!_

"Why are you wasting your time with that BSAA cheerleader, Albert?!" A smooth, succubi voice cried out as Wesker didn't even look away, my head rolling back as the pain caused me to groan; the bandage acidic, if not medicinal, to the touch. He must have taken the herbs from my back and condensed them into spray, like I'd done so many times before. It didn't excuse what he was doing, WHY he was doing it.

"Albert!" The woman cawed, like an annoying bird that wouldn't shut up.

"Prepare the boat, Excella." Wesker ordered in a level tone, before his eyes rose to mine, recognizing my awareness as my teeth naturally bit together, face tightening in registry of the pain.

"Ah. So you ARE alive. Good."

"Stop wasting your time with that girl, Albert. She could lead the BSAA straight to-"

"Excella, if you speak another word, I will be very upset to inform the loss of Tricell's executive officer." Wesker threatened in a flat tired tone. I hadn't seen him exhausted, even seven years ago, yet the tire in his eyes expressed those years without age. The years of hurting, betrayal, and the witch-hunt for Umbrella.

Hand at my holster, I nearly cried as I brought it up and-

My arm fell, the black leather glove halting my motion as he pressed into my shoulder, gravity doing its best to hold me down. I grounded my teeth as the pistol, a simple standard issue M2AF, fell from my grasp and rolled over the cold, damp stone.

"Why?" I rasped, and the curl on his lips chilled my heart and set my insides on fire with rage. Excella, the familiar name of the woman, piped up outside of my vision. "Yes, Albert. Why waste your time on this trash?"

"She is an asset, Miss Gionne." Wesker said with sudden reprimand. "You know what she carries.

"A dormant T-Virus strand is barely-" Her words surprised me. They knew about the vaccinated egg inside of me? That was classified by the BSAA, how could they have known?

"Ouroboros is barely at its fullest potential. We require a control."

"Kill me." I hissed. It would be a cold day in Hell before I became Albert's asset any day.

"Why would I do that?" Wesker freed his sunglasses with a free hand as lightning fizzled above. I was well aware of the dangers of my own infection. The benefits of being immune to most diseases, specifically those of Umbrella's fabrication. He wanted it, and I wouldn't let him have it.

"_Kill me!_" I cried, the pain sapping me of the bravado and strength I desired. "Because the only way I'll help you is give you the bullet that sends you to Hell!"

"Save your strength, Miss Valentine." Wesker sighed. "You'll need it." Wiping his cheek with a sleeve from drying blood, MY blood, as he stood to a more natural posture. I watched the dark cunning burn through the dark tinted sunglasses as he placed them on, the reddish glare seeping through. His fingers rolled into broad fists as he turned to the unseen Excella.

"Haul my brother into the boat before I confirm Spencer's statement. I've a plan for him," He ordered to Excella, before turning to me with that sickening smirk. "And you."

_June 4th, 2009_

_Underground Facility, Personal Quarters_

My eyes, _HER_ eyes, rose from the bulbous container of the living creature that was attached to her chest lived. Like wires, tendrils had plunged themselves underneath her skin and coiled around and through her spine, enslaving her movements, but not her awareness. I felt her lips curve into a frown as I lifted a hand and brushed where I reside, the woman in the mirror following suit as my fingers, cloaked in the skintight material, brushed the frail, tender shell of the device. I narrowed her eyes uncharacteristically as I looked at her one last time.

Her face was softer than how she normally was, her cheeks rounded to emphasize youth instead of gauntness of age. Perhaps it was the virus we shared? Her hair, a false blonde that sashayed over a stray eye, rested slightly over her shoulder as the rest came into focus. Her face moved in ways she was not used to, frowning often or bursting with calm tenacity. Her body, a well-shaped hourglass, couldn't attempt to hide behind the coiled leather, skintight battle suit I had been issued, the form of every curve visible to me no matter where my eyes traveled. However, I knew better. She trusted me far too well for me to be perverse.

At the heart of her thin, agile body lay the red thing as it always had for two years; a slender hand brushing it with tender fingers as the other loosely clutched the zipper to the upper-section of the suit. In another time, another life; I'd spent hours, days even; simply curving these lips or crooking that brow just to get used to her face. The face that I now wore. The face that I promised would be returned whenever the opportunity arose. Yet, the strangest hesitation stole my heart, a conflict within that frightened me.

_**You don't have to go through with this.**_

I paused for a moment, her thought slipping into mine. Her eyes lowered as a face that neither Jill nor I were used to. My eyes dropped to the floor as indecision seized me by the heart. I could feel her unrest underneath, the years of watching that we shared; yet, the years of control that we contrasted. I pulled the zipper up, the familiar press of the material to my neck appeasing me.

"I must return what I've stolen." Her voice was natural, but low and almost always hushed or calm. That was what set us apart, Jill and I. She was bursting with emotion and fierce, strength and hope; whereas I was solitary, hushed, and quiet, the years of lab work experience prevalent even now, so many years after the conspiracy, the theft, and the paranoia.

_**You don't have to go through with this.**_ She empathized. _**We can wait until we find someone else-**_

"Wesker will kill both Chris and his companion Sheva, regardless of my attempts to aid them. If I don't relinquish control, Chris will open fire on not only him, but us, just as the BSAA are expected to do towards the infected." I interrupted, fidgeting the collar to give comfort and not constrict. I clenched my fingers to test their fit, stretching in preparation. A cramp would be the death of both of us.

_**Chris wouldn't do that. We've been through too much together.**_

"But, Chris and I have not. Take the Tyrant you killed for example. Did it not have experiences with people it sought out? The people it killed?" I counteracted, heels of the suit clicking as I walked over to the storage locker of the Quarters on the adjourning wall. The natural sways and motions of her body had become natural and been processed without thought at this point. I pulled open the locker, one of many, and swiping the Skorpion sub-machine gun I had begun to favor and began the routine: Check the cartridge, look for damage, ensure its properly assembled. The habit influenced to me by Jill had been given long ago. I holstered the both of them in the thigh straps, snapping them into place, giving a few testing movements. With the fluids given to her by my attachment, our strength was much greater than before. The death-dealers were almost weightless.

_**What about Wesker? Excella?**_

"Albert's personality will bleed into mine, like yours already has." I sighed as I tore the flash grenades and put them at the small of my back, the clips holding them as always. "Excella is a revolting shrew whose body I'd never inhabit."

_**There must be another way.**_ Jill fought, but I couldn't leave her unsubdued. Those two years were spent in preparation for this moment. The moment Wesker loses it all.

"There isn't. I will die and you will live on with your life return to you." I wrapped the cloak around my neck and pulled my arms through the sleeves, the other hand reaching for the face that I could consider my own.

_**I won't let you.**_

"You're a survivor, Jill." I reminded "Survivors survive."

_**You're surviving with me!**_Jill snapped. _**Two years, we've spent together. Two years of waiting, surviving together can't just mean nothing!**_

I pressed the Raven's mask into place, my breathing now metallic and resonating as I shut the locker, but halted as my hand remained on the metal frame, even as precious time flecked by and couldn't be wasted.

"Twenty years ago, I helped Umbrella manufacture the 'W' Project. I've earned my rest-"

_**You thought you were improving humanity.**_

"I watched a child wither and die!"  
_**You took the research notes to ensure it never happened again!**_

"I am a monster!"

"You are my partner!" I felt my eyes widen in surprise as her words left my tongue, HER tongue, as the tone snapped into one of emotion, of tomboyish strength and nature that I could not have claimed. I paused for several moments, before relenting a slow, ragged sigh as I pried myself from the locker, eyes heavy into the woman in the mirror through red seeing holes. My natural frown slipped into a sad smile as I curled her blonde hair behind my head in a loose ponytail, pulling the hood up to match the mask and hide the identity sparingly.

"Well, then." I felt my tone slip with the emotions that the we both felt, heightened behind the pain and severity of it all. "Don't you trust your partner, Jill?"

The answer was immediate. _**You could have told Wesker that I wasn't still active, that you hadn't successfully killed me. Of course I trust you!**_

"Then you'll need to believe me when I say this is for the best. I've lived through you and learned more than Umbrella, Spencer, or Albert has ever taught me. I have spent years hurting people in the name of bettering society, but in truth, we were forging monsters behind it all." I breathed, her pain and sorrow nearly strangling the voice, Her voice out of my control.

"But, now I've seen the treachery I've helped cause. Now, I've seen all the evils this world could offer. Here, as we stood together for over eight-hundred days, I finally see how to right the wrongs I've enabled.

"In minutes, Chris and Sheva will fall for Excella's bait and be brought to the Monarch Room, where Wesker will force us to help him kill the both of them, to prove that you are truly inactive."

_**But... **_Jill fumbled, my own heart caving at her feelings.

"I can't let that happen. You are walking out of here, without me."

_**Alex.**_

I froze in step, hand pressed unconsciously to the metal door of our quarters, nearly opened. She sounded so helpless, as if the world had crushed her beneath its heel. I tried to level my tone. "Yes, Jill?"

_**Promise me.**_ Her voice, the very trembling thought that whispered in my ear. _**Promise me that I'll see you again.**_

Even in the longevity of possible failure and death, she kept her hopes high; no matter the odds. I bowed my head for a moment, my lips curling into that rare smile that I rarely ever felt, as I recognized her bravery, her fearlessness. She was pure, I was aware. Kind and brave, the best of all of us. I shrouded my thoughts from her review as my eyes watered slightly, blinking away the tears as I could feel her recoil in confusion.

"I promise." I lied, her heart set at ease. I crooked open the door and released a heavy breath. I reflected for only a moment. The face I wore had been everywhere and had done everything in her belief and her endless conflict against injustice. Army Bomb Disposal, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Service, Rear Security, Private Anti-Biohazard Unit, Federal Bioterrorism Agency, Bioterrorism Security Assesment Alliance. Arklay Mountains, Mediterranean Sea aboard the Queen Zenobia, Russia, the Spencer Estate, Kijuju, and now...

I smiled weakly, even as my steps rang through the muddled hallways towards my death, and the rebirth of the phoenix that was Jill Valentine. I let that feeling sink and devour me as I knew that darkness would follow next. Maybe Hell? Paradise? Reincarnation? I'll find out soon enough I suppose. For now, I wrote the memoir into Jill's mind, never letting her forget me.

_My name is Alex Wesker, the project lead of Project W and the catalyst of Ouroboros, the most powerful viral infection on the planet. I am Oswell E. Spencer's prodigy, unblooded son, and thief of the research notes to my own project, to ensure the end of all that was my life's work. I die today with the admiration of one who has defeated bioterrorism globally, but only now do I truly feel what I should. Altruism was necessary to this situation and because of me, life would both end and return, after so much life ending._

_ I am Alex Wesker and I will save our world by ending my own life._


	2. Chapter One: Project W

Chapter One

PROJECT W

_August 9th, 1985_

_Southern Seas Facility, 92 miles from Florida_

"Hail the messenger; a contact-sensitive candidate has reached prime elasticity range."

"Yes, Director Alex."

I released the announcement button after my order, the intercom crackling to silence as I stroked my chin in interest, my other hand returning to twirling a metal pen between my fingers. I had been rather excited to see Subject 2 reach their testing phase and I was delighted for the chance to make progress, in spite of previous examples. Aside from the casual day, tonight would boast more intriguing value than the dawn before it.

I dragged my eyes across the crowded clutter of my office, the benchmark "Doctor Alex Wesker – Project Lead" reversed across the pane of the window in the door across from me casting a dim shadow to the floor. The desk in front of me, mahogany wood and flitted with clipboards, flash drives, and assembly notes, was teaming with time lost and time well used, the flickering light of the telephone glaring at me for such hasty use. I sighed, pressing the pen against the wood to shut it, as I tossed it aside, the thoughts clinging to me with such a ravenous manner. I had always been this way, unable to contain my thirst for understanding, my need for satisfaction in the events that went on. I caught myself biting my lip in nervousness, anticipation. Time was a resource that not many had, especially not in my department. Not after...

I stood from my revolving chair a bit too quickly, arm wrapped across the breast of my lab-coat as the other pressed its elbow in and fingers brushed my chin. The thoughts were skittering through my head with such urgency that it was maddening. I sighed, frustration clear in my tone as I turned about, facing the large board of sorts that was attached to the wall. I pressed the center of it, a large red and white symbol filling into a small spiral, before it made itself clear with an audible ping an whirl.

Umbrella Corporation.

I swiped my hand across the board with haste, a keyboard easily managed as I tapped in my security information as it took a moment to verify, before checking on. The lights grew dim as I took a moment to look it over. Blasted thing may have been cutting edge tech, but it had its fl-

**"Hello, Alex."** The female voice pleasantly chirped, but I wasn't in the most pleasant of moods. I swapped through several folders, each given a name that seemed to blur before my vision. I had only one care at this point, and it was infuriating even if I knew the answers. Names like Tyrant, Progenitor, Heavens Stairway... Each with their own bars of black digital ink that would fill my screen and be easily lifted. I kept scrolling, ignoring the helpful "**What file are you requesting for, Dr. Wesker?**" as I went on. I spied a red folder, incomplete and still building. Something surged within my chest, my fingers rapping against the board in such rapid nature that I almost damaged it.

"**File 19: Project Wesker.**" The voice droned, slowly slipping up several bits of data that I had to leaf through, sliding it out of my vision as I kept looking through. "**Project Lead-**"

"Alex Wesker, I'm aware." I griped, before the authentication finally cleared and allowed me to see what I searched for. "Open data for PW, list and page format." The board whirled for a moment, before the folder split open, several pages each with their own listings and numbers. I caught several of them, each giving me a pang of guilt and a flicker of anxiety. Every bit of data had to be accessed by priority of previous listing, such as listing one always came first on a set amount of numerals. You can't rearrange a page without numerical organization, that's simple construction of a list in itself.

I had to focus just to realize I had already slipped through over ten names before my fingers nearly trembled over my own.

Subject 12: Alex Wesker. I watched as the data screened into my vision, a picture of myself from a few months prior fill the profile as I absorbed all of my features and sensative information that it held to memory. The profile wasn't autobiographical, regardless of my place as director of my own project,. Oswell E. Spencer, the head-official of Umbrella and co-founder, had written my dossier ahead of time to avert bias. Agreeably, it was a necessary scientific tactic that was appreciated, even if the information was arguably pointed (In hindsight, what science wasn't pointed?) I narrowed my eyes as I observed it calmly, my attention scrying towards the picture as it held the most space, pugnantly bright. The sharp appearances of the man named Alex was intruiging. My face was straight, without much ere to my "V" shaped bone structure, beyond the chin that broke it into an almost "U". My hair was scientifically unnecessary, lengthy and ending slightly past the edges of my jaw, black and straight as my eyes were the colors of oceans, dark and scenic amidst the pale complexion. My beard was thin, barely more than a stubble, but finely tuned with a certain roguish look. Uninterested in the handsome devil on screen, I glowered over the rest of the information.

Alex Wsker, 22, Alive, 5/28/63

Project Lead - "W", Umbrella Pharmaseutical Corporations – Clearance B

Black hair, blue eyes, pale skin tone.

Reserved, secretive, work-obsessed, emotional. Shows dangerous values and moral compass to scientific meters.

Biological Marker – null. Prime Testing Timer: 0: 1 : 7: 19: 0 : 12 : 39

I breathed a sigh of tire. One year, seven months, nineteen days, twelve minutes, thirty-nine seconds. In hindsight, it may be quite a distance away, but with the success probability in an unknown variability it was almost terrifying to imagine if progress could be attained in such a short time. With each new variation of the Prototype Virus (The development team has dubbed it "Vitae" for its purpose, but "God-Killer" for its results), it was a stretch to predict whenever deployment was within reach. Two subjects had already reached their optimal testing phase and had been conditioned properly, but hastened injection and biological resistance was something nobody could account for without prior data. Data that not even Umbrella could acquire. I sighed, wiping my face with my hands as I tried to nullify the thoughts of what could occur if I-

"Doctor."

I nearly damaged the board with how quickly I had snapped through the screens in surprise.

"Apologies," I sighed, flipping through the screens until they landed on Subject 2's profile, a few paces from my own, pulling up the faraway picture and the biometric counter. I cleared my throat and adjusted my coat before turning to face my visitor.

It took me some time to recognize the individual dressed in Umbrella militant uniform, the regalia of the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service strapped to his skin and covering him in gray patches of armor and padding. His face wasn't visible to me, hidden behind the gas-mask that leered with bright red glass eyes towards me without an emotion to hint at. I released a dry laugh, the memory returning me to my announcement.

"Ah, yes. HUNK." I nodded, waving a hand over the touch screen. "I had nearly forgotten about your protocols."

"We all have our safety procedures, Doc." He replied, before assuming the position of attention. "I had been informed that you required my assistance?"

"At ease, solider." I defused with humor, but he seemed to take the command literally, becoming more loose and losing his stature. I decided to ignore my rising thought to point out my own joke.

"Are you familiar with my work, operative?"

"Project W, the first assessment of the Progenitor Virus' capabilities with alterations." He droned informatively. "Still in its testing phases."

"Yes, the program has had its hitches, but hopefully this will be the last of them. I can only dream that we're at the turning point of the entire experiment." I sighed, before pointing a finger towards the board. "This is your target. Subject 2: Felicia Wesker. At an advanced rate, her biometric clock hyper-advanced to the nearly the point of biological prime, due to a metabolic gene in her systems that she has carried with her from birth." I wafted through the file a bit, several pictures of a campus and several other blurry faced students, centered around the young girl, slipped into view in a scrapbooked manner. "She is located here; Manhattan, currently attending Ambrosia Private Elementary School." HUNK paused for a moment, memorizing the details before turning back to me with an immediate question as I halted for a breath.

"She's still a child?"

"Indeed." I reiterated once more. "She is of nine years of age and carries a rare mutagen in her genetics."

"Ah. This explains much." He nodded exactingly; however, my brow creased. "Oh?"

"It surprised me, Doctor, that you hadn't reached the appropriate setup for the testing phase."

I frowned, knowing that Mr. Death was apathetic out of habit and didn't intend to taunt my own natural standing. Fidgeting my neck, I folded my arms over my chest as I turned to face the slides once more. "Yes, well. My time will come eventually."

"Any additional details before I begin the contract?" He altered the subject, thankfully. I nodded in return, facing him with a twist of my form to loosen my joints. Stiff as cement when your occupation required either constant sitting or never-ending standing.

"Acquire Felicia Wesker nonviolently, perhaps through the usage of deceit or persuasion," I acknowledged, growing closer to HUNK as I steered my eyes through the red shades of his face mask. "Do this and I will ensure that you will receive a monetary bonus for your immense effort."

"Negotiable?" HUNK pressed, his posture becoming rigid, expecting failure. I crooked a smile, intrigued by his sudden interest in the well-being of his assignment. "Of course. Name your price."

"Fifteen hundred for the expenses, with an agreement fee of twenty grand to ensure my cooperation, and a closing fee of the previous value whenever the contract is completed." HUNK remained stiff as a statue, fingers slightly balling in anticipation. I'll give the operative this, he was one who visualized things in advance and was interested in nothing but face value. If the information wasn't presented to him, it wasn't his problem. I kept my amused smile as I offered my hand towards him, which he shook cautiously.

"Acceptable." I concluded. "With your given track record, I'd pay the best for nothing but the best." I returned my arm to the fold as I seated myself in my chair, pulling it close to the desk as I palmed the center of the table, looking up at my hireling with a careful expression. "If you return in less than three weeks, I'll try to find some token of gratitude to reward you for your devotion to the assignment."

"Much appreciated, Doctor." HUNK's stature deflated with a sudden swiftness, eager to jump into his new payday without delay. I waved a hand at him, pointing at the door. "Speak to Yuki outside, the girl at the desk, and inform her of our arrangement. She'll make sure that you're well equipped for retrieval."

HUNK remained still, looking at me expectingly. I had been glancing at my desk for a few seconds before I realized his hesitation. It had dawned on me of his military respect towards those of higher authority was to be taken seriously, forgetting that he was a well oiled machine and not one who took things without literal statement. "Dismissed, HUNK."

"Doctor?" He broke the code, causing me to look at him in surprise. What else did he need to know?

"Mr. Death pays all of his debts. I owe you for your generosity." He nodded thankfully, before turning to the door and swinging it open quickly. His brisk pace cut through the halls and drove him out from my view as the door crawled to a close. It took me a moment to process his words, but when it did, a small grin played over my lips. Shaking my head as I faced the board slowly, I felt the strange irony dawn on me.

"Mr. Death." I muttered. "I just ordered the Grim Reaper to bring in someone alive." I powered the board off and snatched up the receiver of my phone as it greeted me with a few sharp repetitions of beeps.

"Project Lead, Alex Wesker speaking?"

_February 14__th__, 1986_

The girl had been relatively easy to acquire, if not interesting. HUNK had honored his agreement and received his bonuses for his swift return; sedating Felicia and resulting to a rapid, unknown kidnapping, rather than falling to the protocol and using the activation serums or bio-marker injections from where the girl had been previously. It was a fairly touchy subject, seeing as Subject Two had been snatched with little contact from her guardians. Obviously, they had been reimbursed after HUNK's flawless escape; however, I wasn't quite proud of his decision. Splitting a family was a difficult thing to do; however, in this course of action, anything filled the costs of bettering society as a whole. Surely HUNK did what was best, then?

His reputation obviously proceeding him, the operative arriving in a weeks time, rather than stretching the date to spread out his resources. He was capable and quick, something that was respectable in a colleague, let alone an assistant to my cause. To Umbrella's cause, as a whole.

In the end, however, HUNK had disappeared just as quickly as he had initially arrived after the validity of payment had been confirmed. He vanished with a kicking youth bound by the hands and legs over his shoulder, stating "Mission accomplished, Dr. Wesker."

After he had sent himself away, I attempted to... mediate Subject 2's awareness to the situation and the benefits of such, but it erupted into a rather awkward scandal. It began by impersonally guiding her to her fortunate accommodations and needs; however, it ended with her stomping the "tour director's" feet flat and refusing to speak to anyone. For a young, confused girl, she was definitely spirited. In all the time that I'd known her, she'd become growingly fierce.

I reflected on these qualities as I leaned back into the chair that this stroke of thought and preparation had begun with, rubbing my thumb into the fingers of the same hand as I reviewed the information carefully. Felicia had reached the point of biological maturity, which was both fortuitous and dangerous. Naturally, a normal human being doesn't reach biological maturity in their genetic makeup until around the age of twenty one to twenty five. She's only nine years old and she has the genetic development of an adult. Fascinating as it may be, the additions of any concoction that myself or my team may insist enter her systems must face a dangerous call of trying to adapt to the new frame, as previous installments of our progress had lead to... grave results.

As appointed director and project lead on the Wesker assignment (Pardoning the late Mr. Wesker, may he rest easy), I wasn't just given the simple executive desk and the fancy Umbrella U-Net info-board. I was the head researcher since I had joined the corporation. It had taken a large piece of my life to work and edit the Vitae, or "V-Virus", as everyone had known to nickname, to its safest, most satisfactory form. Large teams had dedicated their time to follow my orders and decisions, but only now do they seem questionable.

Out of the thirteen subjects, including myself and Albert, only one subject had been administered to the bio-markers that were necessary before final V-Virus injection. Albert, whom had been a complete surprise, had seemingly adapted to the markers easily. This would of been wonderful now, but he had yet to reach biological maturity... And for the inconvenient loss of Subject 1 from hastened administration, I shudder to imagine what would occur if another Wesker Child were to take the serum too quickly. Preparation was key.

The survival rate, with Albert's appearance, had risen from a mortifying 0%, to 98%, given the statistics of adaption to Albert's genetic structure. A sign that things would travel smoothly.

There was hope that Umbrella could cure all diseases and remake the image of humanity as a whole. Even in the reflection, I almost scoff at my own cynical attitude as I had been given such a rare opportunity by my father. So much trust and leniency with this project gave me a certain... drive, that I sought to ensure the appreciation in trade for the expectations fulfilled that I desired; albeit, second-rate to the true desire of my being here.

I shook my head with a dry chuckle, powering down the Umbrella Network info-net board as I stood from the chair. Swiping up my clipboard and pen, my other hand armed into the pale lab-coat with a practiced ease that came naturally. Clearing my throat and making my small time escape, I turned the doorknob to my cramped white office and out into the halls with a certain quickness in my step. I must've been excited, even if I had no reason to be at all.

I walked through the large boxed office-spaces of researchers, scientists, and doctors, cutting through their symmetrical rows of tables, desks, and advanced equipment like a surgical tool. A few greeted me as I passed by, but I simply gave the half-hearted "Hello"s and "Good afternoon"s. I was known for my cautious behavior, but I was never quite strict. Naturally, people like Dr. James Marcus, the co-founder of the company, was more aggressive in his tactics and always insisted that others were aware of his intellect. Jealous was a strong driving force to improve oneself, so it would seem. Albert and William had never truly been more capable than they were before, even arriving into the company after me.

Making my way through the rows and hallways that followed, the other research teams working on their own projects slipped into view as sign and voices both pointed and murmured to my senses. As I passed the Floral Laboratory, I heard scattered voices that surprised me. Intrigued and distracted, I slowed my pace to a halt and pressed my back to the wall shouldering the door, feigning review over my clipboard as a few other of my peers passed me with an eye of suspect.

"No!" I heard a cry. "No. NO. NO! That is NOT how you properly assert Stairway of the Sun!"  
"I-I'm sorry, Doctor I-"

"Don't apologize! Daniel, help your peer clean his mistake."

"Of course, Doctor." Daniel Longfellow replied, before a muddle of footsteps stamped closer to the door, before ultimately bursting open, a scientist I wasn't quite familiar with trampling down the hallway muttering, "Imbeciles!"

I shook my head with a sigh, shutting the door behind him after giving a sympathetic look to the two inside, scooping up beakers and leaflets of data. They were newer to the company, fresh faced and inexperienced beyond what they've learned in a classroom. Daniel had been the most seasoned of the rooks, but only barely; however, I knew him moderately so. I decided to readjust my focus before it was lost entirely. Returning my attention to my own matters, rather than those of a quarrel between intellectuals and their apprentices, I hastened my step with my focus renewed on my own assessment.

Years, I had spent towards Umbrella's goal to expand human strengths and eliminating human weaknesses. Since the first time I had opened my eyes to see, Spencer had given me purpose, made me believe that humanity was plagued by its own burdens; but, it could be saved. That I was the only one capable of curing the human ailment. To fix the mortality of our own species as a whole. It's why I had no objections whenever my father volunteered me as Subject 12 for my own experiment. The rest was left to me.

Swiping my authorization key into the door frame, before pressing a thumb to an ocular scanner on the same machine, I paused until a comforting chime announced my approval and split open the slide-away doors. I was about to enter a sensitive area, one that required complete sterile touch and careful monitoring. Thankfully, everyone who remains at the facility is given a decontamination shower, rather than a civilian one. It's more efficient and effective in a small community of workers trying to work cleanly. Entering my adulthood's work, I released a small breath and shiver as a new-found sense of care and gentleness, as well as a wave of caution and authority. The smallest misstep could send everything into disarray.

The center room was designed to be rectangular and bridged between each cell that Subjects we were required to take under our wing from a central chamber. They were all constructed with the Subject's opinion basis in mind, each with their own survival necessities and luxuries to ensure that there wouldn't be much desire to leave the facility or rebel, as all of your cares were taken for. The Wesker Children were entrusted with the best education, the best genes from their parents, and the absolute wealth that they deserved, being the individuals that could change everything. Genetic purity was merely left to the work, now, which had been less than successful. But, we still had time, all of us did. It was just growing thinner by every second I wasted on these pointless sentiments for thoughts and worries.

Stepping past a few empty Subject rooms (as they had been without full construction, be it either the lack of necessity to acquire an amiss Wesker Child or the longshot of biological maturity was still a factor Umbrella and I had yet to determine), I made my way to the center of focus of my unnecessary sentiments. I edged my way through hallways and large rooms, filled with doctors and researchers of all types, all deep into focus and running with beakers or test results flying behind them like wisps as their holders scurried from room to room. Most of the results, I recalled, were mainly computerized. No need to begin experimentation whenever the data is still in the process of only momentarily to allow a miniature bulkhead door to split open at the recognition of their project director, I slipped through the sheen metal doors and continued my stride, taking little notice to the large red, pixel blocked 02 stamped over the door.

The room was slick and bright, like most of the other rooms aside from my office. It was designed like the other research rooms, each with tables and the necessities a researcher had become accustomed to. A few of the research team was huddled around tables as they were examining several different things: their notes, the several computers that were booted up and running diagnostics. I glanced about, hesitating as I waded through the less than a dozen lab coats as their gazes pierced through glass windows into Subject 2's containment area. I tightened my lips in disappointment, taking the matters into my own hands. I thought I had made myself clear the last time this predicament had arisen. Finding my target, I made my way through tables and people as I reached out calmly, resting my hand on his shoulder.

"Jesus!" Robert cried, before his sense of duty wrangled his attention and words back to control and clarity. "I m-mean, 'Good day, Dr. Wesker!'" He was turned to me, his reddened hair was the color of a bright crimson, lengthy like my own but kept into a style I couldn't take a liking to. Swept to the side of his head as the rest lay flat, his spectacles gleamed infront of his gray eyes as his broad features tightened carefully.

"Good morning, Researcher O'Neal." I returned, crooking a brow as I neutralized any lightness in my expression from his skiddish response. "I trust you've been giving my patient the appropriate comforts as I had requested?" My lips pressed as his eyes darted towards the glass, waving an arm towards some of the team as their posture went from stiff to spry as they rushed over control panels, the satisfying sound of metal shutters closing behind me as I grinned in compliance.

Turning back to me queasily, he nodded. "Of course, Doctor." Correction, he must've nodded at least four times. His gray eyes were nearly enveloped in terror, so beady and moving in so many directions. He was new to Umbrella; but, vastly intelligent in the field of bioengineering and had a broad understanding of all things organic. He had the smarts to run the office and by his track record, he might if things went as south as they were. I had more than a year, perhaps longer if the other Subjects could outlive me. I allowed the ease to show on my expression, but didn't lose my disciplined nature, my harder hand of tutelage keeping my features brusque and measured. "And my second request?"

"N-Nobody has disturbed the Subject's chamber, Director. We've just been studying 2's psyche profile and-"

"Please, Robert." I halted, dropping my hand as I waved over another of the research team, whom handed me a few research notes pinned to a clipboard in exchange for the one I had walked in with. I scanned over them, as was the routine that I followed. Manage and direct executive decisions, ensure that the right bacteria was in the right areas, and keep those who worked on that very bacteria or virus wasn't exposed. "Let's keep the major details in the light, shall we?" Redirecting the topic, I turned to the closed metal shutters as I gazed from the clipboard in one hand and pointed towards them. "Has her condition changed at all since the last report?"

"Subject 2's been..." Robert fumbled for words, scratching the Umbrella logo on the breast of his coat nervously. "Less. Resistant, I mean, since your direct encounters. It's been more open to-"

"She." I corrected, looking at Robert for a moment, as if sternly, before I returned to the clipboard. Her vitals were going smoothly, if not erratic from a strange development of stress. Perhaps the homesickness, once again. She hasn't always been the most cooperative, especially at the mention of her last lodgings and attachments.

"What?" Robert's toned dropped to something else, eyes of genuine confusion and concern.

"She, Field Assistant O'Neal." I addressed his rank calmly, ensuring that he understood the gravity of entitling the Subject. Subject 2 wasn't a testing animal or insect, but a living human. No sense in removing the humanities whenever it was going to up bring all that was in the sense of the word. "Subject 2 is female."

"I... don't understand, Director. It's a test subject, not-"

"Dismissed, O'Neal."I cut him off, passing the notes to a nearby table as Robert froze in place, looking at me wide eyed and mouth open. Hesitating for a moment, he feigned a pleasant smile as I saw him practically twitching, rather than moving, to reacquire his notes, items and inquiries from the same table, including the same clipboard I'd left. With a tilt of his head with unnecessary expression, he replied "Of course, Director." before walking past me numbly, head bowed as he was muttering the entire walk away towards my own entrance.

Ignoring the last of Robert's inhumane examples from intruding upon my thoughts, I refocused on the one-way mirror panes of the bedroom, now shut from my field of view. Most would feel some sense of accomplishment in my place, talking others into their will and being able to order whomever you wish into whatever you wanted. I did not share that same satisfaction. Being a child of strict discipline and under constant surveillance until recently, I hardly wanted to revel in the fact that I could inflict the same harshness that my own progenitors had put on me. However, Robert was hardly half a man if one counted his inhumanity. I had a sudden, wrenching revolt twirl within my stomach as I subdued the thoughts of what Robert could do if I didn't steer him on the correct path, the brighter path. Sighing, I edged past the tables and made my way around the mirror and towards the containment door, simply locked and carefully monitored with keycodes. It wasn't quite the same inside, given that a member of the team could be trapped inside by any means, so only a keycard was truly required from inside Subject 2's room. Reaching into my lab coat, I'd feel my fingers close upon the blue shaded card and begin to tug it free from the inner breast pocket. Identification and whatnot-

"Alex!"

"Hm?" I paused for a moment, before the recognition hit me. A grin played over my cheeks as I turned to look over my shoulder at the mid pitch of the woman's voice. There was only one woman who addressed me by name. Well, two, technically.

"Good morning, Annette." I returned her whip-crack greeting, the blonde haired and bright eyed beauty, scoffing at my reproach as she stepped quickly and met ends with me, halting only a few feet away. Like all of us, she was haplessly doomed to wear the lab coat and under-uniform that she despised, but wore like a second skin. A habit she'd grown accustomed to, regardless of her protests, as she wanted some difference between herself and her husband, awkwardly enough.

"I've been yelling into your ear for at least fifteen seconds now, are you deaf?" Her natural emotional flares slipping over her rationality could've been spotted from miles away. She always insisted she was mellow and calm, but at this age, she was about as mellow as an unruly infant. I managed a dry laugh, barely a few breaths in the sound.

"I'd hope not. What do you need today?"

"I need a good cup of coffee, a raise, and a name for the newborn, but you'll have to do with giving me an update?" Annette's charm was as blunt as her tone, but she meant nothing by it. It was her signs of affection, really. She was more... chatty, considering she wasn't one to shrivel in fear of their Director, or so it would seem. That was the natural order of all things that was Field Scientist Annette Birkin.

"Robert tells me that Subject 2 has been more at ease due to my interventions. " I relayed. "In time, we could start administering the next level of benchmark biomarkers to see if we need to make adjustments to the current serum."

"Fantastic." Mrs. Birkin rolled her eyes. "More work." Shrugging to her reaction, I pulled free the card so it wouldn't seem that I was frozen in motion, brushing it with my thumb as I looked down at it carefully. I wasn't the most elaborate whenever it came to small talk, but I was adept at keeping someone from being irritable. Clearing my throat, I'd turn back towards Annette and smiled carefully, looking through her green eyes. "How is she, anyway? The baby, I mean."

Annette's composure lightened, rather than being so stuffed with energy. She folded her arms over her abdomen femininely as she looked me over for a moment, before turning away as she released a soft laugh. It wasn't the first time I had inquired about the baby, but it may have been a bit awkward now that I realized. We were in a work place, a public area in a private premises. The last time I had asked about her recent reproduction was alone, pressing the curfew to comfort her about her disbelief at becoming a reasonably able mother.

Glancing away for a moment, I released a small breath. "I'm... sorry, that was a bit abrupt, I-"

"It's fine." Annette cut between my words. I turned back towards her, eyes connecting, as I pressed a shoulder into the wall next to the Subject's door, closest to the shutter, as we continued our small chat.

"She's healthy, which is good for a start. Not very loud for a baby, but I won't complain."

"So, all's well?"

"Almost." Annette sighed, swiping some hair from her field of view as it split from the center, much like a heavenly reflection of my own, if not shorter. "William and I haven't agreed on a name yet."

I feigned surprise, letting my features widen. "It's been nearly two weeks!"

"Shameful, I know. The names we keep coming up with are just..."

"Shameful?" I relayed her own word as she laughed, her head shaking a bit.

"William tried to name her Veronica. Veronica!" She raised her arms from their bind as she made a dramatic motion, as if aghast at the very idea. I wasn't too keen on the name either, so we shared the hilarity of the moment entirely. The other researchers looked on as if the soft spot of my humorlessness was becoming shown, but it didn't seem to matter. They'd fear me by the end of the day if I kept a solid frown. Turning an eye from the criticism in lab coats, I jerked my head towards the door as I slid the keycard in place naturally, working over the codes and locks as I spoke between them.

"I'm heading in to speak with Felicia. Do me a favor and ensure that the mirrors remained closed?" I tilted my head in a small lull. "She... hesitates to open up without them. Clever girl already knows that she's being watched."

Annette sighed, seeing as the conversation had reached its end. "Very well, I'll get on that."

"Thank you." I returned as she turned on a business black heel and began to march off. Watching her departure, I shook my head with an amused smirk. The bravado of that woman was heartworming, to say the least, in this department. Fresh, always a new experience. Annette had only been here for a handful of months and she had already become a senior member of the research team behind Project Wesker, even as an expendable, translatable asset. Brash as she was, she was a brilliant girl; albeit, terrifying when paired next to her equally intelligent husband, William. Pausing as I gripped the doorknob, I whistled loudly to catch her attention, as she nearly skidded mid-step to turn back to me.

"What is it?"

"I forgot to say; but, tell me whenever you name the baby. I'd like to be informed."

"Aye-Aye." Annette wafted a hand in dismissal as I turned back to my focus, holding a moment as I, also, held the door in silence. Compliments aside, I tore my eyes off the far away scientist and steeled my nerves, as professionalism was almost mandatory. Felicia had been selected for the Wesker Project at birth, so she had to be retained and cared for with absolute precision. Making her feel like she was a prisoner would beckon the need for escape, which was simply too costly to humanity's future to bear. Surging my mind of the worry of loss and informational layout, I twisted the steely knob as I pocketed my keycard into the slip on the lab coat near my thigh, before stepping into the room as the door fell shut behind me.

Often I find myself surprised of the living condition my patients, both current and past, live in. The rooms were spacious and articulately designed to the patient's liking. They were of the highest detail available, regardless of costs, and were always with entertainment and services, as they were well fed and provided for. If the Subject wanted something, typically it was provided. Felicia's room was no different. Taking a collected liking to a more modern approach, the room was filled in a strange block-filled appeal, as if split between pixels of walls, tables, and floors. I remembered the construction plot for the room before I had sent HUNK to retrieve her, every aspect of the room set to an electrical design. It was all interchangeable, the colors of the room, the control of the doors by a remote into the smaller "rooms", such as the restroom or the 40x40 recreational room. I hadn't been quite used to the strange design of the room, my own interests lying in the more... refined and eloquent, not the simple and slick. It was the public face of Umbrella to remain technologically apt in today's world, I suppose though.

The walls were a bright white, with several black pixel-square dots flecked between the pristine purity, the miniture staircases from slightly elevated platforms. I looked about carefully, footsteps resonating in the silent room as I reached the center room, a large, flat window of a television screen suspended on the wall, but dead and quiet. I ran my finger over the nearby "H" shaped couch, for both lounging and focusing at the large TV and entertainment systems sprawled beneath it, a less-than-neat spray of CD's and video games littered near the console in an unnatural, lazed fashion. I repressed the cringe that followed from merely examining it. A small break of coughs, awkward and attention-seizing, turned my focus over my shoulder as my eyes met the embodiment of all that I had accomplished.

Felicia was sitting on a bed of equal color to that of the walls, only a short distance away in the corner of the open room, placed between that of the recreation room and the built in, separate walled restroom. Her legs were crossed in an indian-cross, palms pressed to her ankles as she looked at me with those starry emerald eyes. She was thin, fragile, the young girl she was. Her complexion wasn't like my own, not quite pale, but still had that positive brightness to her skin; however, we shared the same blessing of hair color, our shadow black hair sheening with the lights above. Her rounded features and sharp eyes would mature well as she got older, definitely an attractive woman whenever she gets through the activation phase. Felicia's clothing, however, wasn't the most feminine in her collection, often taking the term "tomboy" very clearly, her black tights, white boots, and equally pure hoodie stood out very carefully with the trademark, "02" printed in a pixelated format across the chest of the hoodie like a logo, for identification purposes outside of the lab, obviously.

"Are the mirrors closed?" Felicia was already ontop of things, looking me over with an odd gaze inside of those bright eyes. Her cheek was slightly turned, her hands on her crisscrossed feed at the end of her indian-wrapped legs shifting as she folded them across her chest tightly, as if in worry. I approached the bed, but kept a safe distance away from her. It wasn't the most... intelligent thing to be within striking range of Felicia, especially if you "incidentally" enrage her. Her voice was high and innocent, but dealing with her for the seventh month in a row has taught me that the devious and feingingly adorable girl was far from that which was innocent, regardless of her age.

"Made sure of it." I addressed with a smile, cupping my hands and resting them at my front, near my waist as I kept things civil. Not much purpose in retaining that thought, I realized. Things were never really _not_ civil between the two of us, now that it was clear. Felicia nodded appreciatively, before looking towards a nearby, far-off mirror next to the door I had entered from with a certain glare, cheeks slightly puffed. It took a moment to process, but she had stuck her tongue towards it in a silent raspberry, my eyes rolling in response to her childish nature. I couldn't technically blame her, only being, what, ten years old now?

"How are you feeling today, Felicia?"

"You ask me that, every day." She responded, turning back to me almost glumly. I tilted my head slightly, intrigued at her strong memory. I never doubted her unnatural potential, much like my own and the rest of the Wesker Children.

"Is that a bad thing?" I dropped my smile, to test the effect. She took the bait, her eyes widening as if worried herself. She shook her head almost haplessly.

"No." Felicia sighed. "You're the only one that _does_ ask me how I'm feeling. Every day."

"Oh?" I retained my smile, broadening my expanses on the awful nature of small-talk. "Not even Annette?"

"Not even that stupid blonde..."

"Hush." I tsked. "The blood tests were necessary, in case that you had any illnesses we weren't aware of."

"She didn't even put the IV in right!" Felicia defended, turning her head away in a quick motion as if repulsed to even look at me, to even dare disagree with her. It was an adorable effort, but it would be hard to get rid of me.

"I'm sure it was just a mistake."

"_She's_ the mistake."She grumbled, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around her them at the shin, chin pressed to her knees as she glared at the wall with enough hate for that woman to fill two suns. I could see where people could get the false pretense that this woman was innocent and childish, her cheeks puffed and her rage hardly contained between the outcries of the high pitched sarcastic retorts from Miss Wesker. In her defense, I couldn't quite question a young lady's warpath.

"I'll talk to Miss Annette and get a firm apology from her, okay?"

"A resignation would be preferable."

"Felicia,"I sternly noted, which Felicia simply relented an angry huff of a, "Yeah, yeah, I know..." The cutting tutelage of my guidance left the both of us in a certain... silence for several moments, which was unbroken even through our sighs and level gazes as I reflected, my mere presence to keep her company rather than the inclusion of charming words or wisdom. Whenever Felicia had been acquired, she had been confused and helpless, unknowing of where she had been taken to and why. It was necessary for the project to be secretive, but it pained me to watch Felicia batter her cells walls for entire days or fast in rebellion to force an ultimatum. Eventually, I caved and broke regulation and directly contacted her much like I had now. It was something about her, being unable to understand what she had been... _made _for. The destiny that awaited her that would change us all. She'd be revered as the savior of humanity, like the rest of the remaining Wesker Children. I approached her calmly and explained the situation, why she was so useful to not only myself, but the entire Umbrella Corporation. She took it in with bouts of shock and sarcasm, sometimes even ignoring my presence as I came back for a second visit, then a third; but, she grew... too alone. Like myself, her willpower crumbled and she sought out an ally in me.

As time progressed, she opened up. Felicia talked about her home life, her friends, and was clearly happy to share. Going to a private school at a young age, she was the picture-perfect truant, never following the dress code, always disobeying the student conduct and getting into trouble. She even regaled me about a tale of how she grafittied the portrait of the dean and evaded a suspension by playing patsy on another unfortunate child. Felicia was clever for a ten year old, proving her superior intelligence over the rest of her classmates. She was already memorizing quotes from Dante and could cite the timeline to the American Revolution.

I enjoyed her company, I truly did. It was unfortunate that I couldn't give her the full lengths of my work (the one protocol I couldn't stretch, even with my title), but I was happy to share what small details I could give. My home life wasn't the most... open, but it was certainly shared the seclusion that she felt now. It wasn't the easiest life, but I had many leisurely things that many others did not. I was naturally positive because of my life experiences, regardless of the painful times that came with the occupation, so I constantly reassured Felicia that her downtrodden belief that this was her end days was complete nonsense, even reimbursing the idea that she _will _be freed, once the whole ordeal had been over with. She could live as a Goddess as humanity played catch-up to meet her biological perfection.

If she survived, that is.

She despises the other scientists and doctors for not attempting to level with her sooner. They look at her as a guinea pig as I look at her realistically, not apathetically. She was a child that could cure the human ailment, so why should I forgo all safety precautions, whenever there were only thirteen Wesker Children to select from? We had thirteen chances and now, we're left with twelve in a matter of months. I had to be gentle with her and ensure that she was safe, even if the lesser beings in the chain-of-command called me attached and soft. I'm a doctor, not a torturer. I couldn't view myself, or any of the research team on Project W, as higher beings than those that we worked upon. No. I _couldn't_ carry the same idealism as...

Clearing my throat awkwardly, she clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth and glanced at me, before her lips parted.

"Robert."

"Hm?" I hummed a response.

"You've got a certain way your eyebrows move when Robert makes you angry." She pointed out in a sigh, as if expecting some bomb-threat of problems that I carried would be laid upon her. "Lay it on me?"

"He's still a spineless..." I lost the vulgar term for sake of Felicia's age and appropriate language, but Felicia ended the sentence for me.

"Bastard?"

My stern glare made her bite her tongue.

"Spineless worm who's afraid to look me in the eye without urinating on himself, as it seems everything he does is either too incorrect or in the pursuit of being too flawlessly merciless."

"He's also a robot programmed to be the rear-kisser of the entire company." Felicia grinned devilishly. Now, I agreed with that choice of words, I daresay. I restrained the small laugh behind the continuation of the topic, but I couldn't hide my agreement from my features, the small tilt of my lips visible to her as she recognized it in a similar way.

"He's dangerous. He looks at you as a creature, not a person."

"Likewise." Felicia looked unamused, as if she wished she had some better antagonist to call an adversary.

"He seems more uneasy by the day, which concerns me at what he may try to do in the far, or near, future."

Felicia scoffed, "So, fire his _ay-double-ess_ to the curb." She raised bow, an emerald eye looking to me for approval. I sighed, which gave her the signal flare that she deserved.

"He's a valuable asset to the Wesker Project," we said in unison.

"I know, I know, you've told me before.." She concluded, my lip twerking to an opposite of a smile. I palmed the edge of the bed and look her over carefully, as if ordaining if the words were quite ripe to tell. It was a recurring question that seemed to loop over in my mind with every passing visit that I entreated her with. The images kept clawing at my attention and no matter how much I attempted to will them away, they persisted. It was an unending compulsion that seemed to haunt me, especially as I grew closer to the next in succession, as things would seem. I couldn't let what happened to Hans happen to her, on both counts of an ultimate end. I felt my lips tighten for several moments, debating on the worth of the topic. Could it truly hurt if I told her? Would it truly scar her worse than arriving under the wing of Umbrella?  
Forcing myself to comply, I let my lips part as my eyes fell to the floor, trying to rationalize what I was doing. Felicia could spot the warring thoughts crossing my face as her expression neutralized into that of terror, mock but still existent.

"No," She uttered.

"I... need to tell you about-"

"No-No-No." She piped up a few notches, turning away from me once again. "No bad news here!"

"Felicia-" I tried once again, but it only escalated.

"_La-La-La~" _She singsonged, cupping her ears with a hand over each. "Not listening!" I looked over her expression as she repeated the denial like a spell that would throw off whatever bogeyman I was about to unleash on her. I felt the pain suddenly strike me through the heart, driving its claws through my reason and shreading it to pieces, watching the girl defend herself against my truth. I repressed the images of Hans, what had occurred, as I put on my best false smile that I could without revealing too much. She was innocent, even if I knew otherwise. Telling her now would be empathically useless, demanding the need to escape from the nightmare that was the Southern Seas Facility. It wasn't possible, I recognized, as I forced the words to come.

"Fine. There's definitely no ill-begotten news regarding the kitchen fire." I sighed, ruefully. "All that precious cake batter, smeared over the floors-"

"Hold the phone." Felicia dropped her arms and leaned off the side of the bed, palms pressed into the frame as her eyes shower her delight, practically twinkling with sheer interest. I had her attention, now. "You... baked a cake? For me?" Her false-innocent tone emerged again, which resurfaced the opportunity to-

No. That happiness in her eyes was too pure. Too priceless to snap. I smirked just as devilish as she had moments before and responded with, "Of course not, silly."

"The..." Her tone was wavering, eyes glimmering as she was on the verge of tears. She shifted on the bed as she sagged slightly, disbelieving. "The cake was a lie?"

"No. The cake _IS_ a lie."

The innocence that was Felicia Wesker submerged itself as her shimmering eyes filled with fire, the disguise of enthralling interest vaporized behind the thick blast of rage. I released an elated laugh and patted her shoulder, now in reach, of which she promptly reacted by sinking back into her bed, the large lush pillow behind her ingulfing her head in plush as she moved out of my reach, face buried into the white plush as she didn't give a single sound. I halted my own entertainment as Felicia remained still, unmoving as something seemed to drown her in a new feel, some emotion that I couldn't see. I wasn't used to her being upset over a loss in a battle of wit.

"Don't be like that."

She responded with a knife-sharp silence.

"Felicia..." I pressed.

"Can't I just have cake before Robert and his robot army kill me?" She mumbled. Taken aghast by her reply, I stiffened up as I had a strike of irritation raise over myself as well. I couldn't quite tell if it was genuine belief or another stab at me to get me back over my white lie. "Don't talk like that." I reassured. "You will be fine."

"And cakeless." Felicia groaned, fidgeting a bit on the bed miserably.

"It's bad for your health and developing figure." I tsked. "You know that." No way in Hell was I letting her physical condition decline over a meager fifteen minute delight. I wanted her to be strong whenever we give her the appropriate materials, leading to the final activation phase. Being sickly, weak, or physically inept would leave a margin for error that would be... very, very poor for her survival chances.

"You're such a health nut." Felicia complained, unmoving on the bed.

"Only when it counts."

"Which is never." She pointed out.

I released a grin as I shook my head with elation, turning away from her as I reached behind me to grip the end-frame of her bed. Leaning against it, I waited for whatever words she'd leave a trail on me over before I felt the vibration against my chest jar me. I reached into the lab coat's breast pocket as gripped around the familiar cellular device, whirling in alert. It was a standard issue U-Net communications device, very rare for those not under Umbrella's employ. Stealing a glance at Felicia, who was now upright and concerned, I accepted the call with a quick tap and pressed it to my ear, looking towards the television in the main room. Like a bad habit, I dropped my rank and name like I always had.

"Project Lead Alex Wesker speaking?"

"Ah..." The aged voice breathed. "Salutations, my boy."

I felt my spine stiffen, my jaw loosen in surprise as I gave a look to Felicia once more, who had gotten to her feet within the short time without spotting her as she signaled me to relay who it was. It didn't matter, for I knew who it was the moment that voice crawled into my sense.

"G-Good morning, Superintendent-"

"You can drop the formalities, boy." Oswell E. Spencer readdressed, his eldrich tone one that had fermented my memory like any fine experience before it. The culmination of who I was and who I had become had originated from this man, regardless of... I threw that thought away before it consumed my emotions in a tight grasp, trying to refocus. This was no time to be lost in the past, the chairman of Umbrella was on the other line!

"Are you still there, Alex?"

"Yessir." I answered immediately. "I... I'm just surprised that you would call. Are you feel well?"

"I am restless, I dare not deny that." Spencer replied, the static response of a sigh resounding into my ear. "But, I am fine. You, on the other hand, I am far more interested in."  
"Sir?"

"How are things coming alone for Project W?"

"The... process is coming slow, but smoothly, aside from some setbacks." I licked my dry lips nervously, trying to relay what I could in the most summarized way possible. Spencer wasn't a scientific mind, as it was, but he had the riches to employ whatever mind he desired. I knew this for fact.

"Albert's arrival was very fortuitous to the testing phase. We may-"

"Is it ready?"

I paused for a moment, unsure of what to say. This was a difficult moment, telling your own boss that you hadn't come perfectly across the only assignment you had set out to do. That was the pain of becoming such a respectable bookmark in the Umbrella Corporation.

"Is Project Wesker a success or a failure, boy?"

I turned an eye towards Felicia for a moment, before stepping away for a moment, the immediate negative response from Felicia reaching out in a tight groan of disappointment. Business was business, but it was necessity to ensure that she remained as clean-handed of what had gone on. I lowered my tone to a hushed whisper, trying to ensure that the prying ears of Felicia weren't as attuned as that of what she imagined they were.

"Subject One was terminated through a hastened activation." I attempted. "It's too early to be sure if our work will pay off. Not until more Subjects can come to light and reach biometric maturity."

"_Your_ work, Alex." Spencer corrected. "This is _your _effort for _our _cause."

"Indeed." I nodded instinctively. "You've given me so much for this project. So much trust and resources." I acknowledged, Felicia darting in front of me and waving her arms in the air to get my attention. Crooking a finger at her, I pressed the phone to the opposite ear as I kept my eyes on the sporadic Miss Wesker as she even attempted to throw a pillow at me to rear my attention back into place.

"And you will give the world so much more." Spencer released an exasperated, tired tone in his voice. "I will be arriving in the Southern Seas in a days time to examine your progress thus far. The helicopter pilot ensures me of this." He explained, before his tone became much more grave, more pointed. "Do not disappoint me, son."

"Yes, Father." I replied, before a click silence the call. It took me several moments as I tried to cut the sudden rapidness of my heartbeat, trying to calm myself as I went through a thousand scenarios in my mind. Project W wasn't ready for a demonstration! The current serum was still unprepared, virtually more likely to kill than it would purify! Spencer was pushing me too fiercely, this wouldn't end well for either of us if he decided to thrust my progress in front of the rest of the Representative of Umbrella. Pocketing my phone slowly, I pressed my arm to the wall of the recreational center and sighed heavily, a sudden weight pressing against my shoulders like Atlas holding up the Great Sky Above. I felt Felicia gaze on me as her tone was still pressed with humor, even if that same humor had been drained from me.

"Daddy issues?"

"More or less." I answered, ruefully. "He's arriving tomorrow or the day after to review our progress."

"What progress?" Felicia responded sarcastically, which summarized what true progress the team actually had uncovered. One out of thirteen had been killed and we still had no definitive answer if our work could be fully completed, before being manufactured to the rest of the world. We still had to push Umbrella to authorize false flu injections, friendly assistance, or direct contact beyond what I had been able to pull for Felicia to arrive. Spencer wouldn't be pleased, not unless something was able to slip his attention. I had to... I needed to return to the Lab. Maybe I'll find something today that'll improve my chances of not disappointing Father Chairman. Peeling myself from the wall, I walked about as numbly as O'Neal perhaps an hour ago as I lumbered past Felicia tiredly, before halting my step.

"Felicia?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Whenever Spencer arrives..." I breathed, back still turned to her. "I don't want you to leave this room, understand? He's..." Words couldn't describe what I attempted to communicate. I could sense her concern as I turned my head about in conflict, before shaking my head as my tone changed to a bit harsher, unintentionally sharp tone.

"Just... please remain in your room, whenever everyone gets the speed in their step down the hall, okay?"

"Aye-Aye." Felicia echoed the far off words of Annette as I moved on, the small irony of the situation pressing a bit of weight of my back as the stress was slipping off, but only slightly. I had improvements to make, diagnostics to run. Leaving the room, as it had been unlocked to start with, I moved on and locked the door behind me, looking at the steely, marred reflection of the unconventional doctor sharing the same interest that I shared with him. Spencer would get what he wanted in the end, it would seem.


End file.
